


A Fool's Wish

by MissMonsters2



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/F, Romance, fem!reader - Freeform, tagging here is stressful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:35:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22621882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMonsters2/pseuds/MissMonsters2
Summary: [From tumblr]Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x ReaderPrompt Request:  💕- 7:  I guess that’s my fault for loving you.- 16: Did you enjoy it? Making a fool out of me.
Relationships: Natasha Romanoff/Fem!Reader, Natasha Romanov/Original Female Character(s), Natasha Romanov/Reader, natasha Romanoff/reader, natasha romanoff/you
Comments: 9
Kudos: 88
Collections: Natasha Romanoff Reader Inserts





	A Fool's Wish

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Thank you for sending this in, lovely! :) Now we are both in pain LOL
> 
> Warnings: …Angst?

You’re not sure how you ended up in this situation. Maybe it was because you were naive and wanted to believe that what you had was real. 

But it was clear to you that maybe you’re just a fool.

It was just another day for you. You were walking home from work late at night. You lived relatively close, 20 minutes away but 10 minutes if you took a shortcut through the park. 

You’re usually a creature of habit and would take the 20-minute walk as it was more publically crowded and you were less likely to run into any trouble.

But that day, you needed to take the shortcut because you had a paper due that night and you needed all the time you could get to finish it. 

You were even jogging to try to make the 10 minutes turn into 5, but luck was just not on your side tonight.

Or it was. Because you met her.

You’re still debating. 

She saved you from potentially becoming a tragic news article the next day. You thanked her profusely, even as she walked you home. She looked thoroughly unimpressed that you were walking home by yourself, late at night, with basically nothing to defend yourself with. 

You thought that would probably be the last you’d see her because you went back to taking the 20-minute route. No paper is worth dying for. Your professor liked you anyways, you were his favorite student. So, a late paper was nothing.

But then there was that hair-standing feeling every night when you walked home that someone was following you. You kept turning around, but no one would be there. It happened for a couple days before you turned around and shouted into the distance for them to come, not caring if you looked crazy to the strangers on the street.

When no one came out, you huffed and went back to walking home. It wasn’t until you were in front of your house that your mysterious stalker revealed herself.

It was the same girl that saved you. You frowned slightly at the sight of her.

“What are you doing?” You asked her, gripping your bag a little tighter. 

The redhead gave you a crooked smile that looked entirely too cocky in your opinion. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to try your luck with shortcuts again.”

You snorted, relaxing your shoulders a little. “No, pretty sure I’ve had the scare of my lifetime. Better late than dead.”

You both stood there, and you weren’t sure initially what she had wanted, so you invited her in. Once again, she didn’t look impressed you were inviting a stranger into your home, but she didn’t decline.

That’s how it all started. Natasha would show up in the middle of the night when you were walking home and then stay a couple hours, and you would doze off before she left.

You essentially had a stray cat in your home. You weren’t really sure what to make of the situation at first. You were at first neither friends or lovers. You never asked her questions, and you think she appreciated that. 

It was easy. You were getting used to making two dinners, talking about your day. She was really attentive and kind about listening to your dull day. Sometimes she would help you with your papers or research your professor assigned you, and you got used to watching late-night movies with someone before dozing off.

It wasn’t until one night, Natasha seemed particularly tired, and she had a couple scratches and bruises on her. You still didn’t ask any questions.

You only silently cleaned her cuts, being gentle and blowing lightly from habit.

It was something about your gentle behavior, how you treated her so carefully like she was precious that Natasha grabbed your hand that had the cotton swab and kissed you.

And something shifted from that day on.

Walking home turned into walking home hand-in-hand. Coming in turned into staying the night.

Late-night movies turned into heated makeout sessions. 

“Why don’t you ever ask anything about me?” Natasha asked softly one night as you lay atop of her, content.

“Do you want me to ask?” You asked with a quirk of your brow.

“Do you not want to know?” She countered. 

You sighed, sitting up and she sat up with you. You gently placed your hand on her cheek, gently caressing the skin there.

“I love you,” you confessed quietly. “I don’t ask because I want you to share whatever you feel comfortable sharing with me. If you think I’m only worthy of having you late at night until early morning and everything that is in between those moments, then that’s enough for me.”

Natasha worshipped your body that night. 

She then told you she wanted to spend more time together and meet up to talk. You think she wants to open up.

You thought it was all perfect. Maybe Natasha isn’t someone who will utter that she loves you, but she has her own way of showing it, you think.

So, you’re baffled that you’re now sitting in a jail cell of some secret organization. No one will tell you anything, and you’re a little frightened. You want your girlfriend. 

Some agent comes into the room, staring at you through the glass wall that separates you. 

“Tell us about Professor Adams,” he demands.

You’re so confused, what the hell does your professor have to do with this?

“I don’t–”

“Don’t lie,” the agent tells you. “We know you’ve been helping him with his research. We have the data.”

Your eyebrows scrunch together, wondering how that was even possible. All you were doing was researching bacteria that could eat oil spills that happen in the ocean.

It dawned on you.

The intercom comes on, “Just give it up man, she doesn’t know anything. I told Black Widow this mission was a bust. She’s a waste of time, just let her go.”

“No, I know she knows something!” The agent argued, glaring at you. 

Before anything else can happen, someone busts in the room, and the agent is suddenly pushed against the wall, and your girlfriend is standing there, grabbing the collars of his shirt.

“Who the hell do you think you are bringing her into this?” Natasha is so angry, angry in a way you’ve never seen before. 

“You’re getting emotionally compromised! The mission was to get to know her to get information on Professor Adams. It’s been 6 months, and you have no more than we do!” The agent spat in her face. 

Natasha clenched her jaw before she slammed her elbow into his throat and he immediately fell the ground, choking as he held his neck.

“You better prepare when I report to Fury because you would be so lucky to even leave without having at least all your fingers broken,” Natasha told him. She left him there as his partner came in to help him out. 

You were staring blankly at your girlfriend who opened the door to help you leave. 

The moment you had gotten close to your home, you had enough.

“Stop the car,” you tell her.

Natasha did as you ask and sighed as you got out the door, not even saying a word to her.

“Wait,” she called out to you, but you don’t even stop as you keep walking. You hear her car door open, and she’s chasing after you. She grabs your arm to turn you around, and she’s surprised when you whipped around, angry hot tears in your eyes.

“Please,” Natasha says. “It’s not what you think. I can explain.”

You chuckle hollowly. “Oh, you aren’t some sort of secret agent, only coming to my life to…to use me.”

Natasha pursed her lips at your response, but you weren’t even close to done.

“I get it, you know,” you told her, tears falling from your eyes. “A job is a job, but you’re cruel to do that to me, Natasha. You didn’t have to climb into my bed and let me love you. I would’ve given you any information you needed.”

“Wait, it’s not–” 

“Was any of it even real to you? Or are you so used to this that I’m just another nothing to you?” You cut her off. 

You feel so embarrassed, so stupid for thinking you could be special. 

You let out a sardonic laugh as you narrow your eyes at Natasha.

“Did you enjoy it? Making a fool out of me?” You sneer at her.

Natasha tries to reach out to you, to hold you, and reassure everything was real, and it was real because she didn’t plan it.

“I didn’t plan to fall in love with you,” Natasha whispered as she embraced you, holding you tightly so you wouldn’t disappear in her arms. Her face was burrowed in your shoulder as she leaned over you.

You didn’t embrace her back. How could you when all you could think of her motive behind everything. The time to fall in love is so vague.

That first time she kissed you…did she fall in love then? Or was that just another ploy. 

When she slept with you, did she love you then?

It was breaking your heart to think that maybe she never intended to open up to you. You were just a means to an end. 

You pushed Natasha away from embracing you, gently. 

You looked at her, eyes red as the tears kept coming, lower lip trembling.

“Don’t come back here anymore,” you tell her. Her brows were furrowed, and her jaw was set in a tight line as she looked at you. 

“Don’t do this,” She tells you, her voice sounding a little raw. 

You shake your head, “I thought that somehow I was special to you because I didn’t push you to talk about things, didn’t ask you questions that might hurt to answer. I thought everything we had might…” You took a deep, shaky breath. “Might make you love me too. I trusted you, Nat. Even though you gave me no reason to trust you, I did. Now I look like a dumbass. I guess that’s my fault for loving you.”

You were tired, you were heartbroken, it kind of felt like your chest was caving in. You dedicated everything to had to her for 6 months, and now you had to find a way to come home to nothing, make one meal, and fall asleep by yourself. 

You looked at Natasha’s eyes once again, her green eyes that held storm in them as she looked back at you. You turned away, running up your stairs and into your home with the door shut behind you. 

Natasha stood there, feeling as though someone cut her at her knees. The image of you walking away from her made her swallow painfully, holding back the stinging in her eyes.

“I do love you, though.”


End file.
